


100 Fantasy Drabbles of Samsteve

by Scotland_Axel (orphan_account)



Series: 100 Samsteve Drabbles [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, M/M, rapunzel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12029133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Scotland_Axel
Summary: I changed this to fantasy bc finding a hundred fairytales is hard and boring and adding ten years to my life i don't want. fantasy aus. that's it





	1. Rapunzel, Rapunzel

Sam's in the middle of singing his morning song when he hears someone or  _ something _ clambering up the side of his tower. He stares lost at the single window for a moment before calmly sitting down and pushing his long dreadlocks behind his ears. Perhaps it’s his savior at long awaited last. 

It takes a few minutes and Sam hears a few hissed curses before the stranger is hooking a leg over the sill and falling rather ungracefully into the room. Sam raises a curious eyebrow at the stranger, not able to get a good look at him other than a full healthy head of bronze. The man stands up and brushes off his overalls, and Sam marvels at his bare feet and dirtied hands. Whoever this man is he doesn’t seem the prince-saving type. But as soon as he raises his chin Sam reconsiders his initial opposition at the stranger’s bright blue eyes that glow as if luminescent. 

He removes a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat off his brow, swallowing and clearing his throat before finally squaring his shoulders and looking Sam in the eye. 

“Um, hello. I know you’re probably waiting for a prince of some kind, like you yourself are, and I am by no means of royalty. I’m sure I am not even worthy enough to stand in your very presence, and yet for some reason I have gathered the courage to do so. I just heard your lovely voice while I was searching for new land and it possessed me in a way.” At this the man looks down as if ashamed, but Sam finds his voice melodic as well as deep and soothing as it is. 

“And you have no reason to believe me when I tell you I tried to fight the desire to find you, but your voice seemed as if doomed to remain in my mind. Even if I was told you were a deadly siren I would have happily taken my death by your hand, and the sentiment is still true. 

“Like I said I am by no means royalty. I am a simple farmhand with only cows, a horse, and chickens to my name, but that being said I know a prince when I see one and also how to treat one. The man destined to save you from this tower may have the title I lack, but less of the honor. He will no doubt to be unfaithful to you, and someone of your beauty and your grace deserves no such treatment. If you shall choose me, I swear to cherish you always and work to give you the life you deserve.” 

At that the man finally stops his declaration and Sam is glad that he is already sitting or else he might have fallen. It is a lot to take in, especially from a gentleman he has never met before and is not the one to be expected. 

“You may not be of royalty, but you do speak as if from royal blood. You carry yourself with dignity, and the honor you speak of is blindingly apparent. Even if I would deny your offer I am sure I would live to regret my decision in the future if this knight in shining armor is as treacherous as you say. I am Samuel Thomas Wilson. May I ask the name of my savior’s hand?” 

The man’s glowing eyes widen in disbelief and he stumbles forward hesitantly as if in a trance. He shakes his head, and his mouth opens and closes as if a fish.

“Steven Grant Rogers. The village knows me as Steve.”

“Sam is fine for me.”

Steve steps forward and takes both of his hands in his own, forgetting himself before turning to gesture to the window. “Do you wish to leave at once?”

“If it permissable by you I would actually like to spend one last night in this incarcerating tower. Though it has been a curse I believe there is no better place to view the night, from here it seems you could reach out and gather all the stars for yourself. I’d love for you to witness it with me.”

Steven grins brilliantly at him and nods, taking his hands again and pressing kisses to each of their backs. 

“I’ll wait for you as long as you wish.” Steve replies, and he sounds as gone as he claims. 

Sam feels his cheeks heat at the utter adoration, and supposes love at first sound must exist in a world such as this. 

“I have some cards if you would wish to play something. I’ve only read about games however, I’ve never actually played any. Of course, seeing as I’ve been alone for so long.” 

Sam supposes he must look forlorn and sad at the fact because in the next moment he’s being pulled in by Steven’s strong arms and held against a chest hardened from hard earned labor. Sam freezes in the embrace, unused from the touch of another, and he feels Steven start to pull away, but raises his arms to discourage the action. 

The two of them sit down on the cobblestoned floor and Sam pulls out the pack of cards to play a new game Steven teaches him. 

After a round or two Sam grows bored and begins to build a card castle to the amusing amazement of Steven. 

He moves on to the fourth tier and Steven gasps violently as if shaken. “That’s amazing, Samuel! You’re so talented!”   
Sam laughs at him cheerfully and shakes his head, “You would be amazed by  _ anything _ I do, Steven, of  _ that _ I am sure.”

“You’d be correct. Don’t expect that to change by the way.” 

“Is that a promise?” Sam asks, looking up at the farmhand shyly through his lashes.

“Absolutely.”

The two of them sit and stow after tiring of cards, talking to each other as the day dwindles, the sun sinks, and the moon rises to fame. 

The moonlight sneaks up on them both, slashing across Steven’s face for Sam to even take notice. He removes his feet from Steven’s lap and stands up to excitedly rush to the window. 

“It’s full tonight, Steven. It’s perfect and yellow as corn.”

Sam waits until the man is at his side before looking up at the night sky, the stars twinkling brightly and accented by wispy gray clouds. Steven’s arm pulls him close and snug into his side and Sam smiles at the act, resting his head against the man’s shoulder. 

He can see Steven’s gaze locked on him from the corner of his eyes and he smiles to himself before looking to return it.

“You’re missing the moon and the stars, Steven.”

“As far as I know you are the moon and the stars…” Steven tilts his chin up with a single finger, and his eyes are searching and yearnful. 

“May I kiss you?” 

“I would want nothing more.” He breathes, letting Steve pull him in. 

Their lips touch with a spark, Steven’s hot and soft against his own. Steven’s large, calloused hands come up to tentatively hold his cheeks, and Sam finds the courage to press his tongue along the seam of Steven’s lips, groaning when he’s allowed entrance. Sam’s heart spikes when Steven emits a growl, falling into him so he’s pinned helplessly against the window sill, the moon shining over them as if in approval. 

Samuel tears his mouth away to breathe, and Steven continues to press ravenous kisses down his jaw and neck, nipping at the skin stretched over his collarbone and making his toes curl dangerously in all the sensations he’s never known before. 

“Steven.” He gasps, cradling the man’s head between his hands. He can feel his arousal against his thigh, and knows he is not far from the same torturous state. 

“Steven.” He moans again, finding the will to push the insatiable man away for a breath of space.

His savior’s eyes are now dark and nearly swallowed in black, and his mouth is agape and panting. 

“We have to consummate this union outside of this tower. It’s taken everything from me and I won’t allow it my virginity as well.”

Steven pauses, and his eyes seem to pulse in want, another growl emitting from him. “You’re a virgin? I suppose it makes perfect sense, but the thought never crossed my mind. I have to get you out of here before I devour you whole.”

Samuel gives a shocked laugh, “Would you really?”

“In time, yes.” With that Steven crouches down, and swoops him up as easily as one would a feather. Steven moves him so he’s on his back and begins to climb out the window. 

Mounted on his savior’s back Sam finally allows himself to reflect on his rather eventful evening. And he might not have been saved by a prince of royal blood on this night, but he certainly has the hand of an honorable one. And to Sam that is enough. 


	2. Cinderella

Steve didn’t ask much out of life other than to have a roof over his head and enough nourishment to sustain him. Even before his mother died he hadn’t been a particularly spoiled or wanting child despite them possessing the money to enable any so desire he wished. Steve supposes that the humbleness he had before had helped and prepared him for his pitiful existence now under the pressing thumb of his mother’s remaining husband, and his two fraternal twins. 

They never deigned his existence with a mere glance even when speaking to him. And the only way they spoke to him was through demands or insults. Steve’s always had a spark in him, and at times it’s hard to keep his temper and tongue in check, but yet somehow he has done it so far. 

He keeps his head down, and he does as told without much reply, but the day he can no longer remain silent comes with the kingdom’s announcement of the royal, annual ball. And this year’s celebration is special since the prince is to finally choose a bride or a groom. Steve knows he has no chance of turning the prince’s eye — not with how skinny and small he is. He can’t imagine anyone who would ever want a man who looks like a woman from shapely cheeks to big doe eyes. But still, all Steve desires is a night. Just a night to be free of everything pressed upon him. No stepsister, no stepbrother, no step _ father _ — just Steve. He hasn’t been Steve in so many years sometimes he imagines he’s forgetting himself, and one morn he’ll walk past a mirror and see nothing but air. 

It doesn’t take much courage for Steve to raise his fist, and knock against his stepfather’s study door. He gets a grunt of “Come in” and obliges, sweeping into the room as silent as night, and ignoring the look of immediate disdain that falls upon him. 

“And just  _ what _ do you want?” Tony asks, not even bothering to stop his work. Not that Steve would ever expect as much from him.

“I was wondering if perhaps I could accompany you all to the ball this evening. I’ll walk if I have to, I won’t even arrive with you if that’s what you want. I simply want to go.”

“How much do you want to go?” He asks, his cold eyes narrowing. 

“More than anything, sir.” Steve answers, rolling back his shoulders, and lifting his chin.

“Than I will be more than pleased to keep it from you. You are dismissed.”

“But-” Steve snaps his mouth shut the second Tony’s cold eyes flash back to him. He knows there is absolutely nothing he could possibly say to change this man’s mind when it’s so firmly set against his happiness at whatever costs or means it comes in. And in this case it is the ball.

Steve turns on his heel, and leaves, feeling the spark that he’s denied so long start to build, and swirl within him into an awaiting explosion. He runs out of what was once his family’s home to lose himself in the gardens he somehow convinced Tony to keep. 

His feet don’t carry him far. Steve drops down at what was his mother’s favorite tree, throws his head back and screams all the anger he’s harvested for what his mother left him with. Nothing but detestable men with no morals in sight and bird feed for brains. He’s always adored his mother, but in moments like this he can never bring himself to understand how she was so hopelessly fooled. 

Steve pounds his fist angrily against the tree’s rough bark, and hangs his head as heat pricks his eyes. He closes his eyes to feel them slide along the long length of his lashes before falling into the summer grass. 

Steve’s so wrapped up in himself he almost misses the whooshing, and fairy light tinkling sound behind him. He drags his forearm over his eyes to wipe away his tears of anger, and turns around to face the back garden where a beautiful witch stands clothed in luminescent pale blue. Her eyes however are a blinding red, but she smiles a lovely smile at him, and Steve can’t help but trust her immediately. He’s never seen Tony smile like that. 

“Who-who are you?”

“Why, I’m your fairy godmother, Steven. The name is Wanda, but my  _ title _ is the  _ Scarlet Witch _ .” She hisses it as if scary, making a claw with her hand and flashing her teeth at him. But Steve feels himself laugh at her instead, which makes the woman smile brightly. 

She lifts up her large, and no doubt heavy skirts to walk over to him, sitting uncaringly upon the ground with him despite her beautiful gown. 

“What are you crying for, love?”

“There’s a ball tonight where the prince is choosing his partner, and I can’t go. I just want a night, one night is all, but I can’t even be granted that.”

“Why, of course you can. You can if I can help it. Just let me work my magic. When is the ball now, Steve?”

“In a few hours or so.” 

“Meet me back here then, won’t you, love? And I’ll give you the night you’ve dreamt of.”

“Okay. Thank you, fairy godmother, Wanda, if you prefer.”

“Well, aren’t you just sweet.” She replies, leaning forward to pinch his cheek between her delicate fingers, and long sparkling nails.

 

True to his word, hours later after the house has emptied Steve meets Wanda back by the willow in the garden. 

“So, I’ve been practicing my suit making skills. What do you think of this?” She asks, waving her wand.

Steve opens his mouth to stop her, but wispy trails of sparkling, twinkling magic are already swarming to form a nice royal blue suit.

“About that, I was thinking more along the lines of a dress. I look more womanly, anyway, yes? And I always liked trying my mother’s clothes on when she was here. Could you make me a gown? Something as lovely as yours?”

“Why, of course! Even better, Steven! I just  _ love  _ a good dress.” She squeals, clapping her hands, and jumping in her excitement before waving her wand about again.

A beautiful sparkling blue gown begins to form around him, the fabric softer than anything Steve knows on Earth, and caressing his skin everywhere they touch. It matches the irises of his eyes, and Steve grins brightly at Wanda as she smiles almost devilishly at him. 

“Now would you like some hair to match, Steven, my boy? Of course, you don’t  _ have  _ to, as you’ve said you’re quite womanly on your own right. But the prince might like a few  _ golden _ tresses or two.”

“Well, if you can do it I would love some, about mid length.” 

“Your wish is my command, darling.” And with a wave of her wand Steve feels his head start to tickle before his hair starts creeping down to stop just an inch before his waist.

He looks down to hold the ends between his fingers, a golden bronze that shines under the moon. Steve looks back up at Wanda to see the fairy frowning at him as if something is awry. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, you can’t go to the ball barefoot, now can you? I mean you could, it’d be one hell of a statement, but I own some talking mice, who am I to judge?”

“No, I’d like some shoes please, preferably heels.”

Wanda gasps, and looks him up and down quite playfully. “Can you walk in them, darling? If you can, I’ll be happy to oblige you, but I don’t want a charge of my own walking about like a new borned doe.”

Steve laughs at her good naturedly, “I can walk in them, I promise.”

Wanda whirls her wand about again, and Steve feels the shoes grow about his feet to lift him up a few solid inches.

“I think that’s about it — glass heels, a blue dress, long hair, and some pretty make up. That’s a boy ready for the ball!” But then she stops looking right proud of herself, and snaps her fingers, “Oh, but how will you ever get there? No, problem, no fuss — I’ll just make a carriage out of nothing as I’ve done everything else.”

Steve watches his godmother’s magic one more time, conjuring up a lovely carriage of gold. After that she looks around before snatching a scurrying squirrel, and some geckos. 

“The only things I can’t do from scratch are life forms. I’m a witch, not a God. Now, we’ll just make these little critters you’re coachmen.” 

She taps them with the tip of her wand, and the creatures grow into beings who resemble humanity just the right amount. Wanda makes uniforms for them as well, and claps her hands excitedly once done. 

“All done, and ready to go! Be careful, Steven, and do not dwell past midnight or you will once again go back to your humdrum beginnings. Though not for long will you stay.” She says, winking at him conspiratorially though he doesn’t grasp her meaning. 

Steve kisses her cheek in thanks before climbing into his make believe carriage, and riding out to the front of the house, merging onto the narrow road toward the kingdom’s castle. 

The whole ride Steve’s palms won’t stop sweating and his leg won’t stop its incessant jiggling despite the carriage’s smooth ride. 

When they stop in front of the castle steps Steve’s nerves are intense enough to make him consider calling off this preposterous dream, and turn around for home. But instead he grits his teeth, and determinedly hoists up his skirts, and steps out the carriage. 

If Steve’s not mistaken the castle guards give him a once over of interest before offering the arms to escort him in. He accepts them gladly, and tries to quiet the titters he gets at thinking how appalled they would be at what’s between his legs. 

Steve steps elegantly into the ballroom upon the balcony looking down at the festivities. His heart jumps into his throat when all eyes turn to him, and it almost seems the music stops. Still, he goes forward, and descends the staircase to the ballroom below. 

Almost at once Steve is propositioned for a dance, and he nearly accepts when his eyes lock on that of the Prince across the room. He has yet to actually join the ball, and he makes his way down the stairs now without taking his eyes off of Steve. He makes his intentions perfectly clear. 

Steve can't even take his eyes off him, the very man of the hour. He lowers his hands, and takes one entranced step forward.

“I'm sorry, but I will have to decline.”

Steve watches the crowd part for the Prince like the red sea before Moses. I'm In a blink the Prince is before him in his crisp white, and red satin sash. Thanks to his heels they are even nearly the same height. Steve swallows as Prince Samuel holds out his hand while bowing, looking up at him from beneath his lashes, and stopping Steven's heart in its very place.

“May I have the first dance of the night, malady?” He asks, his voice deep, and mesmerizing in it's eloquence. 

“It would be my greatest pleasure.” Steve replies, too surprised to question anything, his mind has fizzled out pathetically. And if the entire night was doomed to be only an illusion, he would be none the wiser. 

Steve sucks in a shocked breath when Samuel’s arm encircles his waist, pulling him close against him, and easily movie them into the next wave of the song’s chorus. 

Steve sighs, letting his hand curve along the line of Samuel’s shoulder as he's swept about the room. Despite feeling everyone's eyes as hard, and hot as the sun’s gaze, Steve cannot deny how alone he feels in the Prince’s arms. 

“I was happy to watch you longer, but I couldn't let anyone else have your first dance other than myself. It's quite selfish actually, but what is the point of being Prince if you can't even dance with a pretty girl?”

Steve winces, but tries not to show it. He doesn't like actively deceiving someone, especially the  _ Prince  _ at that. 

“What is your name?”

“Stephanie.” Steve answers, surprised at how easily the lie rolls off his tongue. 

“My name is Samuel officially, but I enjoy being called Sam.”

“Sam it is then.” Steve breathes, squeaking when Sam tugs him tighter against him. Steve would be embarrassed, but Sam only tips his head back to let out the most beautiful laugh Steve’s ever heard. They continue to dance until the song bleeds out into a new one, and Steve lets his head rest against the Prince’s shoulder as they waltz effortlessly. 

Steve is surprised when the night is nearly over, and he finds himself  _ still _ in the Prince’s arms. He looks up at Samuel curiously, and hums for his attention.

“Don’t you wish to dance with another? It’s the night you choose your bride after all, you’ll never find her if you only dance with me.” He scolds.

Samuel gives him a funny look Steve doesn’t understand, and replies, “What tells you I haven’t already found her?” 

Steve swallows the lump that rises in his throat, and turns his head away from the Prince. If he knew the truth of him he wouldn’t dare say things as damning as that. And Steve considers telling him the truth, perhaps there’s a chance he wouldn’t be mad about it, though Steve has never had any proof that Prince Samuel liked anything other than women. 

Before he can open his mouth however, the clock chimes, and he looks up at it with a gasp. 

“Is it really midnight?”

“No, that one is a bit fast. Why, what’s the matter? What are you panicked for, love?” 

Steve doesn’t answer, pushing out of the Prince’s arms and lifting his skirts to race out of the ballroom, ignoring the open stares he know must burden him. He hurries up the stairs, and doesn’t hear the Prince’s calls over the music, already too busy bursting through the large heavy, ornate doors, and into the night. 

“Wait!”

Steve stops, and spins his head around, his hair flying over his shoulder with the motion. Samuel looks heartbroken standing there all alone, out of breath he’s sure from emotion, and not exertion.

“What? ” Steve asks, his voice weak.

“How will I ever find you? What’s your last name? Who _ are  _ you?”

“I don't think you want to know, Samuel. I  _ am  _ sorry, but it’s been a lovely night. You’ve given me everything I could’ve hoped for. And for that, I thank you.”

Steve turns on his heel to leave it at that, uncaring when his shoe falls off. He just doesn't want to be found out. He quickly dashes into the woods, removing his remaining heel to run barefoot through the crunchy cushion of fallen autumn leaves.

When he reaches home Steve folds up the remaining dress and hides it in the one chest he's allowed, hiding his shoe behind a brick in the wall as a token of his nearly perfect night.  

In the morning word travels fast about the Prince’s predicament and his ongoing search for the mysterious girl he danced the night away with. Steve nibbles on his toast quietly, and gives a sad laugh to himself.  _ Well, good luck with that,  _ he thinks,  _ because she doesn't exist, and she never will again. _ As stated at the very beginning, Steve doesn't ask much of the world. He got his single night, and now he is complacent at the sad service the rest of his life will be. He's not content, but he's made his peace with what will be.

It takes the search party a few days to make it out to there house in the near middle of nowhere, as Steve thought it would. Still, with the makeup he wore, and tying his new tresses back in a bun, his stepfather, and stepsiblings are none the wiser of his night out. So they have no reason to hide him when the Prince comes. They tell him to keep out of sight because he himself is unsightly, but that is all. And Steve will be damned if he obeys them this time. He's alright with them ruining his life, but the Prince deserves not to be lead about like a fool. He deserves to know the person he has sought, even if he doesn't accept them in the end which Steve is almost certain he will not. 

Still, when the party arrives with the shoe he left on the castle steps on that perfect night, Steve cannot deny the hope that rises in his chest when his eyes fall upon the Prince again. He had forgotten how lovely he was with his cheekbones, and soft eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts, his quiet commanding presence of a room. 

Steve lets his sister try the shoe on just for kicks, tittering quietly behind his hand at the frustration. He's simply leaning in the doorway, not quite out of sight, and he can see the slump of disappointment in Sam's shoulders when the shoe does not fit. 

And yet Steve doesn't have to call out to him, because those eyes find his own just like they did that night. He sees Sam's narrow at him in some sort of vague recognition, and the Prince raises the lorded shoe in his hand. 

“Would you like to give a try?” He asks to the shock, and dismay of the room. 

“But he's a man, Samuel, surely it cannot be him.” A man with an eyepatch whispers, looking between the two of them questioningly. 

“I don't have to.” Steve replies. “I can do you one better.” And he pulls the matching shoe out from behind his back he had been silently holding onto with one hand. Samuel's eyes spark at him, and the Prince raises his arm for him to approach. 

Steve takes the hand offered to him, and sits in the chair Sam pulls out. He watches the Prince sink to his knees with pink coloring his cheeks. Samuel takes his bare, and dirtied foot in his hand before slipping the shoe on gently, smiling brightly down at it before turning the grin up to him. 

“Perfect fit, it is. So you are the  _ crossdressing _ lad, hm? Well, you certainly are a fine dancer, I'll give you that.”

Sam rises to his feet, and reaches a hand out, pulling off the ribbon wrapped around Steve's hair so it tumbles down his shoulders. Steven’s breath hitches when that same hand sinks into the tangles of it to hold his cheek in the warm cup of his palm.

“Well, I'd say our search has ended, boys, wouldn't you? Would you care to accompany me back to the castle? Your family can come as well if you would like.”

“I wouldn't actually.” Steve says, letting Sam help him to his feet. “I wouldn't like it all. They're much prettier on the outside than the in.”

Samuel scoffs at him, and Steve heart warms at the fact his hand has not let go of his. “Then they’re not pretty at all, are they? I’m glad to have finally found you. And I guess your true name is Steven I presume?”

“You’d be correct, my Prince. Sorry I ever lied to you.”

“As long as you cease to commit the act a second time, all is forgiven.” 

Samuel smiles at him, and gives his hand a squeeze, making Steve's heart act much in the same way. Together they walk out of the home that stopped being more than a place long ago, and Steve cannot wait to begin their life together.


End file.
